Recording stuff is the bug man’s idea. He told me to keep a “feelings diary.” Those words make me feel alarmed. He made it sound simple. Talk about what happens and how it affects you. Well, that’s out of the question. But it’s good to do the recipes in case I disappear one day and there is no one left to remember them. I’ll do the vinegar and strawberry sandwich tomorrow.

Mommy had certain views on food, but I love it. Once I thought I could be a chef, run a lunch place, maybe. Ted’s—imagine! Or write recipe books. I can’t do any of that because of Lauren and Olivia. They can’t be left alone.

It would be good to talk about these things with someone. (Not the bug man, obviously. It’s very important I don’t show the bug man who I am.) I’d like to share my recipes with a friend but I don’t have any.

I sit on the couch with my sandwich and watch monster trucks. Monster trucks are great. They are loud and they go over things and through things. Nothing stops them. Cheese and trucks. I should be happy. But my mind is full of feathers and beaks. What if I get stuck on a glue trap? What if I just disappear? There is no one to be my witness.

I feel a gentle touch along my side. Olivia pushes her head into my hand then steps up onto my lap with her heavy little velvet feet. She turns and turns again, before settling on my knee. She always knows when I’m upset. Her purr shakes the couch.

“Come on, kitten,” I say to her. “Time to go to your crate. Lauren is coming.” Her eyes close and her body goes limp with relaxation. She almost slips through my hands as I carry her, purring, to the kitchen. I lift the top on the old, broken chest freezer. I should have got rid of it years ago but Olivia loves this thing, God knows why. Like always, I check it’s unplugged, even though it hasn’t worked in years. I punched a couple more holes in the lid last week—I worry they don’t get enough air. Killing things is hard, sure, but keeping them safe and alive is much more difficult. Oh boy, do I know about that.

Lauren and I are playing her favorite game. It has a lot of rules and involves riding the pink bicycle through the house at furious speed while shouting the names of capital cities. Lauren rings her bell twice for the right answer, and four times for the wrong one. It’s a loud game but it’s sort of educational so I go along with it. When the knock comes at the door, I clap my hand over the bell.